


And This Is All That's Left

by something_wild_cat



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, It's an Ariga grieving fic, Yuuri and Shirasaki are here too, like right after Hagane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_wild_cat/pseuds/something_wild_cat
Summary: He can almost feel Mamiya's hands over his, guiding them to hold the body of the violin, running his fingers over the scroll, the strings... The strings that look like they've just been played.(It's been two days.)





	And This Is All That's Left

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me if any of this is out of character; I don't know where it came from but it was a cool idea when I came up with it. This is like the second Messiah fic I've written and the first I've completed, so any feedback at all will be very much appreciated.

 —{~}—

"It's all right, Ariga." Yuuri's voice is quiet, almost impossible to hear. The dark-haired cadet is sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest, on top of what had once been Mamiya's bed. Ariga acknowledges him with a nod. He himself is kneeling on the ground at the foot of his own bed, focused on Shirasaki, who is standing by the door with a familiar black case in his hands.

"Ariga." Yuuri's voice again. Ariga looks over his shoulder, spotting him climbing down from the bed and coming to join him on the floor. "If you want one of us to..."

"No." He shakes his head, and returns his gaze to Shirasaki, who hands him the case with a solemn expression on his face. "I have to do it."

All three cadets are painfully aware of what's inside the case. Ariga sets it on the floor in the middle of the three of them and, steeling himself, starts to pick at the silver clasps. They whisper against the outer covering on the case as they fall away, and Ariga presses his hands against  the lid for a moment. He feels like he should know the texture well; he’s seen it countless times, but he's only held it once.

(When he was bringing it back home.)

Yuuri tucks his knees up to his chest again, and Shirasaki bows his head as Ariga lifts the violin from the case, turning it over in his hands. It's a hard sight to bear, but if Ariga concentrates hard enough, he can almost imagine the way his Messiah held the instrument's neck. He can almost feel Mamiya's hands over his, guiding them to hold the body of the violin, running his fingers over the scroll, the strings... The strings that look like they've just been played.

(It's been two days.)

"Do you think he would have wanted it burned?" Yuuri whispers, voicing the thought that races through Ariga's head at that very moment.

Ariga doesn't reply, because he has no answer.

The three stay silent for a minute longer, until Ariga sets the violin gently back down. He doesn't want to let it go, but... _He'd saved Mamiya's violin for this reason, hadn't he?_ Sakura would certainly take the instrument away if they knew — every single thing Mamiya owned should have been burned. Especially since he was _Mamiya_. But something tells Ariga that the violin doesn't deserve to meet the same fate as the rest of Mamiya's belongings. Even he can sense that much when he touches it. Still, now that he’s kept it...there's no one in Sakura who could possibly treat it with the same care.

As he thinks this, Ariga pushes aside the front of his jacket, reaching for his gun in his belt. He's already made up his mind. He's only following orders, his own orders; that's what he tells himself. It still comes as something of a shock that he finds himself able to go through with it.

He reloads the empty chamber, the click echoing through the small room. It's the gun he used to kill Mamiya, he reminds himself. His thoughts are suddenly having a hard time forming, instead scratching through his head like a record as he leans towards the violin. _Mamiya was the first... Mamiya was the first... Mamiya was the first_ **_person_ ** _he'd killed with this gun. Someone he'd known. He'd never had to reload for that reason before._

_(And God, he'd like to think he'd spent that bullet to save a soul.)_

There's a quiet tap as he brings the barrel of the gun up to the bridge of the violin. He aims slowly, steadying with both hands, like it's a target that's a million miles away. _A target that would meet the same fate as..._ Ariga shivers, his finger hovering over the trigger as he stares at the violin, almost glowing under the dull ceiling lights. He hesitates for a moment too long.

"Ariga?"

He hears his name from Shirasaki first — a concerned voice breaking through his thoughts. Yuuri’s voice, repeating Shirasaki, comes a little later, a little quieter, echoing the fragile question in a way that Ariga would call almost... scared.

Ariga is scared himself. His hands are starting to shake. His finger tenses against the trigger; he can feel it giving way, but there's no shot yet, no _bang_ —

He reacts violently, squeezing his eyes shut and shoving the gun away from him, sending it spinning away, and he scrambles backward, away from the violin, _that stupid violin._ He's not crying, he's not terrified, and he shouldn't be, he's _not_ , but he... He…

_God, he can't waste another bullet._

Shirasaki makes to move over to him, but Ariga has enough sense left to hold out a hand to stop him. _Don't touch me,_ he wants to say; _don't touch_ **_anything._ ** Nothing comes out of his mouth when he tries to speak, of course, and this registers as he finds himself cornered, in between the two beds. He's never acted like this as far as he knows; Yuuri's gaze turns down, and Shirasaki looks wary of his next action. _I don’t need comfort,_ Ariga tells himself. _Not right now._

"Go away," he finally whispers, and he grips the white covers on one of the beds, climbing to his feet unsteadily, turning away so the others can't see the look in his eyes. He’s on Mamiya's side of the room, he realises, and he drops the wrinkled sheets, falling backward onto his own bed with his head in his hands. "Please, go away..."

 _I couldn't do it;_ he sends a silent apology to his Messiah.

_Do you want it burned now?_

He still has no answer.

Ariga’s vision is blurred by now, but he ignores it. He hears the other two move as he draws in a shaky breath; there's a soft thud of wood as Yuuri leaves, accidentally bumping the edge of the door on the way out. He senses Shirasaki approaching him; there's a click as he sets the gun on the dresser. Ariga manages a nod, and Shirasaki puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering a quiet apology. Ariga isn't sure of a word he says; he’s sure he means well, but there isn’t much comfort in the words _I’m sorry_ anymore. Mamiya said them so often.

As soon as Shirasaki is gone, Ariga stumbles back to the middle of the room and falls to his knees again, clawing at the edge of the case. _He'd saved Mamiya's violin for what reason?_ The violin slips into his fingers, and he clutches it to his chest — it's so familiar, and yet still so strange.

(One day, two days.)

 _Even his body would be gone by now,_ Ariga realises. The violin is the only thing left of his Messiah.

The thought only makes him hold the instrument tighter. _Mamiya was the first... His violin almost met the same fate…_

Ariga doesn't leave his room for a while. He's not sure how quickly time goes by; instead he becomes acutely aware of the emptiness of the room — of the other half of the room.

_(God, don't tell him that he'd wasted that bullet on a wasted soul.)_

The clock strikes the hour before he knows it, a few echoing notes somewhere in the distance. He knows the time it declares very well; it's late into the night.

(It's been three days.)

—{~}— 


End file.
